Page 23 of Out to Find Freedom

Emmie: I had a nightmare. Your music helped.

What made her have bad dreams?

She sent another, and it fucking annoyed me.

Emmie:I’m going to stop messaging you. I shouldn’t have started. I’m sorry.

She wanted to run because I’d asked too many questions. I just knew it.

I’d let her think she’d won, until later when I wasn’t supposed to be working and was at home. Until then, I’d shove it to the back of my mind and get on with my day. Or damn well try to.

Chapter Eight

Emerson

Islept through the morning since I didn’t get much the night before. What scared me was how I hadn’t woken when either Lenny or Gloria delivered my lunch. When I opened my eyes, I saw it sitting on the floor at the end of the stairs. Only the fear evaporated when my thoughts drifted to the previous night.

Ryan Warden.

His voice, the way he easily played the guitar. Both mixed together amazingly.

With excitement rolling through my belly, I made my way over to my hiding spot for my phone. While I ate, I wanted to read through the texts again. Only when I pulled it free, I saw I had a text waiting for me.

Ryan had reached out to me.

He texted me first on a new day.

My hands shook as my excitement bubbled up higher. I opened the message… and my smile slipped from my lips.

He’d asked what I was doing.

What could I tell him?Living in a basement because my aunt wants to keep me locked away after I saw something I wished I never had? Oh, and they killed two people because of me, but hey, that’s okay. I’m sure I won’t get you killed.

No.

I had to lie, lie, lie, and I hated myself for it, but if it meant keeping him safe, I would.

When I sent back an apology with my delay and how I was busy with work, I regretted it as soon as I pressed the button. It was too late to take it back though, and I was surprised with how quickly he replied asking what work I did.

I thought responding with “stuff” would get me out of it, especially when I asked what he did. But when his short same-word reply came back, I hated it. He was being evasive because I was.

Before I would say anything, not that I knew what to say even when sorry didn’t feel enough, he asked me how I got his number. He mustn’t have reread the messages like I had the night before, because I certainly remembered telling him. So I said that.

Ryan: Right. Forgot it. Just need to know, darlin’, do you need help?

My heart stumbled over its next beat. Darlin’. It wasn’t darling, but darlin’.

“Darlin’,” I tried aloud. A new smile touched my lips and tugged up the corners. I read the text again, puzzled as to why he would ask if I needed help. Which was what I sent back.

Ryan: Not many would message a stranger in the middle of the night asking for another song because it was soothing to them.

That was true. It had been crazy for me to do it. But he gave me something I wouldn’t forget, so I replied with the truth, about waking from a nightmare and how his music helped me. A tightness in my chest formed after I sent it. Regret.

Reaching out to him and the continuing messaging wasn’t going to work. I didn’t know the man, even when he seemed like a good person. I had to put a stop to it.

I had to.

For my sake and especially his.

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